Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  “Problems?” Jobran shouted. “Compared to losing one’s wife and infant son, what the hell can be considered a ‘problem’? What, you think that you’ve got problems, Mr. well-off suburban Rabbi?” They glared at each other, their eyes seething animosity.

  Suddenly, the phone rang. Jobran went to pick it up, and said, “Hello?”

  “Is this…um, Jobran Winter?”

  “It is,” signed Jobran, figuring it was probably a telemarketer, or bill collector.

  “Did you know Ted Thornock?” the voice on the other end asked.

  “I do know Ted,” Jobran said, his apprehension growing. “What’s this about?”

  “This is Train Reynolds, from the Stentorian Skeptics’ Society,” the calm voice on the other end said. “Ted died yesterday morning; there’s a Memorial Service at the Peaceful Road Funeral Home this Sunday at noon, if you’d care to attend.”

  The phone fell from Jobran’s grasp.

  PART IV

  IN THE WORLD, BUT NOT OF…

  28

  A LOGICAL ENDING

  The taxi stopped in the long driveway of the funeral home. Jobran paid the driver, and got out of the vehicle, which drove away immediately. First time I’ve been to a non-Catholic funeral since my parents’, he mused. Grimly, he thought, I haven’t missed them.

  He entered the open door to the funeral home, and was greeted by a middle-aged man dressed in a black suit, with an appropriately somber look on his face.

  “I’m here for Ted Thornock’s service,” Jobran said, and the man handed him a program and silently pointed him to the left side of the building.

  Jobran checked his watch as he walked in the direction indicated. Ten minutes until the service starts, he thought. Arriving outside the chapel, he stopped at the podium holding the Guest Book. Opening the Guest Book, he noted that there were several names with “Dr.” or “Ph.D.,” which he assumed might be colleagues from the University, or perhaps members of the Skeptic’s Society. As he signed the Guest Book, he thought, I wish Abraham could have made it; I’m liable to end up a basket case, if I start remembering Sophia during the service. Frustrated with himself, he thought, I should have called him and apologized after that argument we had about my conversion to Catholicism; I’ll do it as soon as I’m done here…

  There was a thirtyish man with wiry hair and thick glasses greeting the visitors. Thrusting out his hand, he said (in a voice Jobran thought was kind of too loud), “How you doin’? I’m Roger Fontaine, newly-elected President of the Stentorian Skeptics’ Society.”

  Shaking the outstretched hand, he said, “I’m Jobran Winter.”

  “You’re not part of our group,” Roger said, looking Jobran over carefully. “Are you part of the University group? Or maybe family?”

  “Actually, I’m just a friend. I didn’t actually know Ted for that long, but we spent a night in the Halloway House, then attended a séance together, so we shared a couple of interesting experiences.”

  Recognition dawned on Roger’s face, and he slapped his hands together and said, “Hell, yes! You’re the guy—one of the guys—that was helping Ted debunk some of the local phonies! Yeah, you guys were featured in the last two issues of our Newsletter.” Looking behind Jobran, he added, “So where’s the rabbi? Ted said that he was the spittin’ image of him.”

  “He couldn’t make it.”

  “Too bad,” Roger said, not appearing too concerned. “Ted said that for a religionist, he wasn’t a bad guy. He’s probably really an atheist at heart.”

  There was a moment of silence, so Jobran asked, “I understand that Ted died of a massive heart attack while riding his bicycle?”

  Roger nodded his head vigorously, and said, “Exactly.”

  “Had he had heart problems before?”

  “No,” Roger said, shaking his head, “But when you drink as much as Ted did, and still insist on riding that goddam bicycle everywhere, you’ve got a bad combination.” He paused, then added, “Massive heart attack; his first one and his last.”

  “It happens,” Jobran said, remembering Sophia. “Is Ted’s family here?”

  Roger shook his head, and said, “We contacted them, but they aren’t coming, although his younger sister sent some flowers. His parents are both Baptist religionists from the Midwest, who were initially dismayed when their son wanted to become a Roman Catholic—he got really interested in Thomistic philosophy and Jacques Maritain in high school—then later felt that their son really ‘went astray’ when he became an atheist and decided to major in philosophy, then accepted a teaching position in California. They refuse to have anything to do with him.” He cackled, then added, “Real loving Christians, huh?”

  Another few people were approaching, so Roger told Jobran helpfully, “The University people are all sitting on the left-hand side, while the rest of us are on the right-hand side. Make your choice.”

  There were about sixty people in the room, most of whom were sitting on the right-hand side; Jobran sat down in a vacant row on the left-hand side. Any type of “religious” symbol had been carefully removed from the room. He recognized the soft music playing, so he opened his program and saw that it was the “Passacaglia in D” by Pachelbel. Continuing reading the program, he discovered that Ted was born in Kansas, where he received his B.A. in Philosophy; he received his M.A. in Philosophy from the University of Oklahoma, and was hired to teach Philosophy at the California State University at Stentoria, where he taught for twenty-three years, until the time of his death. He married once and was divorced, and had no children. He is survived by one younger sister and his two parents, all of whom live in Kansas. He was a founding member of the Stentorian Skeptics’ Society, of which he was President.

  It’s amazing how little a man’s life seems to add up to, Jobran thought. You have a few generally-accepted “accomplishments”—such as educational, or career-related— then you may have a family or kids that survive you, but that’s about all there is, from an earthly standpoint. But IS the earthly standpoint all that there is to life?

  Right at the scheduled time, the fiftyish moderator (described as a “Humanist Counselor” in the program), wearing a sport coat with a turtleneck sweater, took the stand in front of the hall. He said that “we were all here to pay tribute to, and celebrate the life of Theodore Thornock, who most of us knew as ‘Ted.’” He gave a brief biography of Ted, covering the same material in the program (except that he said that Ted wasn’t married). He pointed out that thousands of students had taken Ted’s philosophy classes over the years, and gave him very good ratings as an instructor. He also mentioned Ted’s role in founding the Skeptics’ Society, and said that, “Ted would probably be especially pleased if interested persons would like to join the Society, in his honor. There are sign-up sheets in the lobby outside.” Next, he read several quotes that he said were particular favorites of Ted:

  “Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.” (Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.)

  “All religions, nearly all philosophies, and even a part of science testify to the unvarying heroic effort of mankind desperately denying its own contingency.” “Immanence is alien to modern science. Destiny is written concurrently with the event, not prior to it. Our own was not written before the emergence of the human species, alone in all the biosphere…If it was unique, as may perhaps have been the appearance of life itself, then before it did appear its chances of doing so were infinitely slender. The universe was not pregnant with life nor the biosphere with man. Our number came up in the Monte Carlo game.” (Jacques Monod, Chance and Necessity)

  “That man is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end they were achieving; that his origin, his growth, his hopes and fears, his lives and his beliefs, are but the outcome of accidental colloca
tions of atoms; that no fire, no heroism, no intensity of thought and feeling, can preserve an individual life beyond the grave; that all the labors of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of man’s achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins—all these things, if not quite beyond dispute, are yet so nearly certain that no philosophy which rejects them can hope to stand.” (Bertrand Russell, A Free Man’s Worship)

  “There is grandeur in this view of life…that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.” (Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species)

  “The more your interests are impersonal and extend beyond your own life, the less you will mind the prospect that your own life may be going to come to an end before very long.” (Bertrand Russell Speaks His Mind, pg. 96)

  Next, the head of the Philosophy Department at the University gave a short tribute to Ted. He was followed by Roger, who gave a humorous (at least, to the people sitting on the right-hand side of the hall) and often ribald recounting of a number of stories involving Ted. You had the impression that the people on the left-hand side of the room thought some of these were in poor taste (but the right-hand side of the room loved them).

  Finally, the Humanist Counselor returned to the lectern, and said that, “As we all know, Ted was not religious, and this is therefore not a religious service. In fact, Ted often described himself as a ‘100%, true-blue, died-in-the-wool Atheist,’ and he said that the notion of life after death was ‘a child’s fantasy, needed only by weak minds.’” These quotes brought scattered applause from some members of the audience. The Humanist Counselor smiled, and continued, “In one of the very few times that he spoke about his own death—after imbibing more than a few beers, I should add—Roger Fontaine asked him whether he would like to have an open-casket, or a closed-casket funeral; and Ted told Roger, ‘Open-casket, definitely; because you’re sure as hell not going to ever see me again!’” This brought laughter and some applause from the audience. The Counselor now turned serious, and invited those who wished to come forward to view the body.

  Most of the people stood, and formed a line leading up to the casket. Jobran was toward the back, and couldn’t help himself from surreptitiously studying the various people that had come to the service. The people who were Ted’s colleagues from the University were clearly distinguishable from the Skeptics’ Society members, since the former were more formally-dressed and older, while the Skeptics’ Society members were as likely to be wearing a T-shirt and jeans, as an ill-fitting (and obviously seldom-worn) suit. Jobran observed with interest that a number of people (mostly from the Skeptics’ group) seemed to be placing items in Ted’s casket.

  When it came Jobran’s turn, he was able to satisfy his curiosity about what the items were: Mostly bottles of booze, cans of beer, and one package of condoms, as well as a copy of Penthouse magazine; Jobran wrinkled his nose at this. But some more thoughtful persons left a bicycle helmet, and an old copy of one of Ted’s textbooks he had written. Jobran looked briefly at Ted’s face, but the mortuary makeup made him look like a wax figurine—and a poorly-rendered one, at that—rather than the intelligent, laughing person that Jobran had known, so he didn’t linger in front of the casket, but returned quickly to his seat again.

  After the viewing portion of the ceremony was completed, a long-haired young man took the platform with a guitar, and performed a lively rendition of “Blowing In the Wind” by Bob Dylan. This brought hearty applause, when the song ended.

  The Humanist Counselor took the podium one last time. Although he was doing his best to keep the ceremony solemn, you could tell that the “ritual” aspects of it were a bit boring for many of the attendees (some of whom were openly yawning). Perhaps realizing this, he now said in an expansive voice, “You may recall that one of Ted’s favorite toasts was to quote Picasso, who asked that persons at his funeral ‘Drink to me.’” This brought on considerable applause— particularly from the right-hand side of the room—and the Counselor said, “Therefore, I invite us all to adjourn to the hall adjoining this room, where we have abundant food and drink provided for our earthly pleasures!” This brought widespread and uproarious applause.

  Immediately, Roger stood up and said in a rowdy voice, “And I know that Ted would be seriously disappointed if all of us don’t get at least halfway shit-faced! So let’s tie one on for Ted!” This led to rambunctious cheers from much of the group (reminding Jobran of a college frat party), who began to hasten to the adjoining hall. (Although most of the University-types apparently used this as their opportunity to leave, and headed straight for the exit.)

  Jobran poured himself a ginger ale, and took up a position leaning back against the wall, so as to be able to observe the group. Roger rapped the table loudly to get everyone’s attention, then stood on a chair with a drink in his hand, which he raised as he solemnly intoned, “In memory of our dearly departed and beloved brother and fellow skeptic Ted…drink up!” And with a cheer, the audience proceeded to do just that. Someone turned on a stereo, and “classic rock” music started playing.

  Jobran watched with a feeling of detachment. This more like a party, than a memorial service for someone that we cared for, he thought. Inwardly shaking his head, he thought, If abandoning the “fantasy” of life after death is supposed to be so liberating of an idea, why do they need to consume so much alcohol? And why does even their joy seem to be a bit “forced”? Jobran finished his ginger ale, and was about to depart to walk to the bus stop, when a short young man with wire-rimmed glasses came up to Jobran, and said, “Excuse me, but aren’t you that rabbi that stayed with Ted at that supposed ‘haunted house’?”

  Jobran shook his head, and said, “I was with Ted at the Halloway House, but I’m not the rabbi; I’m the other guy.”

  “Oh, right; I talked with you on the phone,” the young man said, smiling and extending his hand, which Jobran shook. “You’re the guy whose wife died, and you and Ted showed what a phony that medium was,” he said, and took a sip of his Lite beer. “Read all about it in our Newsletter, and heard all about it at our last two meetings. Great stuff, great stuff.”

  “Umm…thanks,” Jobran said, somewhat irritated that his personal affairs had apparently been publicly announced.

  “Hey, my name’s Whately, by the way; but my friends call me Train,” the young man said. “Don’t ask how I got the nickname.”

  “I won’t,” Jobran replied. “My name’s Jobran, but people call me Jobe.”

  “Say, thanks for coming,” Train said. “I know that Ted would have appreciated it. You know, he was really into this ‘Quest’ thing that I guess you guys were doing; I don’t think I’d seen Ted as focused on anything in all the time I’ve known him—he was always talking about it these last weeks.”

  Jobran said, “I obviously didn’t have a last chance to talk with Ted; do you know, is there anything he left undone at his death, that he needs someone to continue for him? A book that he wants published, someone that he wanted to talk to again, and maybe reconcile with? Did he want to give a message to his family, for example?”

  Train shook his head. “Nah; he hadn’t written any books for decades, and he wrote his family off after they wrote him off.”

  “Did he have any…well, romantic relationships?” Jobran asked. “Didn’t the program say that he was married once?”

  Train nodded, and said, “He was married for a couple of years, right after he first moved to California. Guess he figured it would be good for his ‘college professor’ image.” He laughed lightly, then said, “He always said that ‘Being married once was more than enough for him.’” Taking a long swig from his beer, he added, “I t
hink ‘godawful bitch’ was the nicest term I ever heard him use for her.”

  “Ted had trouble relating to women?”

  Train shook his head, then said, “No, that’s not what I meant; he wasn’t gay, or anything like that—far from it. But I think he was just too much of a rebel for him to be able to find anyone who would be a true ‘life partner’ or ‘soul mate’ for him.”

  “Wouldn’t he have been happier with a lifelong partner?”

  Train shook his head again, and said, “Nah; after his marriage broke up, I don’t think he ever seriously considered marrying again, or even having a long-term relationship. In fact, I think he wrote several articles on ‘Sex Without Love,’ ‘Open Relationships,’ ‘Plural Marriage’ and so on, that were published in some kind of alternate-lifestyle publications in the ‘70s or early ‘80s, before AIDS wiped that whole scene out.” He pondered the matter further, then added, “Not that Ted was a sexist, or anything; far from it. He really respected and appreciated a woman with intelligence, even more so than her physical appearance. But the whole thing of emotional bonding, that kind of stuff—he just couldn’t dig it.” He drained the last of his beer, then said in a low tone, “Personally, I think that he was in part just rebelling against the strictness of his upbringing; his father was a Baptist minister, which a lot of people don’t know,” and he chuckled. “Right now, his daddy’s probably thanking Jesus for casting his wicked son’s soul into eternal flames.”

  Their attention was turned away for a moment, as several people were arguing about what kind of music should be playing. (Apparently some of the younger persons wanted Gabber or Electronica, rather than the ‘60s and ‘70s-style Rock that Ted liked.) Jobran asked Train, “What about the Skeptics’ Society? I assume that it will continue?”